To My Future Offspring
by StaticUFOS
Summary: Lucian: a slum of a city filled with crime, addicts, and fear. Alistair Black only wanted to live here until college was over. But after a terrorist attack by an unknown organization turns his life upside down, students he once worked alongside and citizens he once shunned may become his only allies against an unstable future. Gore, language, & sexual undertones. Rating may change.
1. Prologue

Alistair Black had never been very fond of two specific things— people and electric-type pokémon.

As such, being abruptly hit up by a long-forgotten friend from high school was not really high on his list of fun things to be doing on a Friday night. The fact that the friend in question desperately needed someone to watch his girlfriend's pet pikachu for the weekend was even lower than the former unfortunate incident, and at first, he had intended to merely reply with a curt 'no thanks' before hanging up and being done with it. Easy, right?

Poor Alistair, however, had a kind heart. He may have been two hundred something odd pounds of muscle with a stature that towered over most, but at his core, he was the sort of man who would help a shuckle cross the road safely or bandage up the wound of a stray litten before sending it on its way. His sky-blue eyes and well-trimmed brown hair were well known around town, and many brought their injured and abandoned pokémon to him when they were in need of help. Despite living in a tiny, cramped apartment he could barely afford rent for and getting out only once every few days, he never turned away an animal who needed him. As thus, he may not have had a deep sense of love for the yellow rat-like creature instilled in his soul, but the combination of his old friend's distress (something about a last-minute vacation, he was pretty sure, though the panicked yelling made it difficult to tell) over trying to find a sitter and the idea of the pikachu being left alone for a week without care moved to compassion. With a clear sense of reluctance, he agreed to meet him in the parking lot of a fast food restaurant they used to do homework together at and take the wretched little mouse. It would just be for two days, he assured himself one last time, before he finally hung up and sank back in his chair with his head in his hands.

His midday form lycanroc lifted up its head from its paws to peer curiously at him, ears pricked forward in attentiveness. A brave guard dog and Alistair's companion since the tender age of seven, he could not thank the gods enough for blessing him with such a noble creature to be the leader of his fighting team. Well… not so much of a fighting team anymore. The man paused to look over at the five red and white pokéballs lined up in a neat row on his desk with a bitter expression on his face. But they were his friends, and damn good ones at that. Quite frankly, there was a high probability that they would be the only living beings helping him keep his sanity as he let the pikachu into his household.

"Do you really think I can take care of a goddamn rodent that can shoot lightning bolts just as easily as it can spontaneously shit on my counter, Onyx? I mean, it's just two days, right?" the man repeated half to himself aloud in a numb tone. The wolf-like pokémon below him only let out a deep, rolling huff before laying back down and curling up on the dog bed it had been given to sleep on. The trainer's laugh in response to this was quiet but infectious. "Thanks for believing in me."

Alistair caught sight of his reflection in the screen of his laptop and couldn't help but grimace. His dark brown skin seemed almost sunken in, as though he were exceedingly unhealthy. That wasn't too far from the truth, though. He couldn't think of the last time he'd had something to eat— crippling college debt and hours upon hours of homework did that to him. He'd find a way, though. He always did. With a resolute sigh, the man stood up and stretched his limbs before motioning to the half-asleep canine under the desk, who immediately got up itself.

"Come on, Onyx. Let's go to bed. We'll deal with this in the morning. Nothing wrong with sleeping the pain away, eh?"

His loyal friend tailed at his heels as the two departed for the bedroom. The clock on the wall read near to two in the morning, and outdoors, all was plunged into utter darkness. The lights of his own apartment soon followed.

He could not have possibly noticed the unidentifiable pokémon enter his room through the ajar window, nor did see it as it planted something down into the floor of the little office within. All it took was a stray ember from the animal's mouth— dancing across the floor like a solitary star across the sky— to send the only shelter Alistair had ever called his own straight into the sky in an enormous plume of red and orange. Against the purplish backdrop, it almost seemed like a sunrise.

In but a few moments of time, Alastair's life had been shattered.

And it was all because of a goddamn pikachu.

* * *

**A/N: **_Hello! Most likely, this story caught your interest because it was a SYOC. If you are interested in having a character featured prominently in this novel, please check out my profile for more information. Reviews & follows will never not be appreciated (they make me happy, lol) as long as they are nice. Thanks for possibly preparing to join this ride with me! Keep in mind that this is a prologue, and subsequent chapters will be much longer._


	2. Prepare For War

Alistair was surrounded by unfamiliar faces. Lights— red, white, and blue— flashed above his head, and the whispers of concerned people echoed in his head. He… he couldn't see. All that he could do was gaze at was the night sky above, and what did that matter when closing his eyes led to the same ending? He couldn't move. His heart pounded in his chest as he struggled to regain control over his own body. What the hell was wrong with him? _Move, dumbass! _The last thing he wanted to hear was his heartbeat. It was jagged and loud, phasing between unearthly speeds and nearly disappearing altogether. God, he hated it. When would this be over? Was this what helplessness felt like? He'd already experienced it before. Not again, please. Never again. The noise thrummed, sang, became higher and then lower. It was getting louder. Too loud, too loud…

"Fuck!"

Alistair could have sprang a foot into the air as he felt sudden power surge through him, but cuffs at his wrists held him down. They rattled against the edges of a bed, and the noise reverberated back and forth what felt like hundreds of times throughout the clean chamber he was entrapped in. Although it was in reality quite quiet, to him it seemed more like a gunshot in volume. He fell silent, dumbfounded for a moment as he adjusted himself so that he could prop up on his elbows, and began to look around.

It didn't take a genius to figure out he was in a hospital room, but it was certainly unlike any that he had ever been accustomed to. The bed was centered in the muted chamber, with soft blue walls and the floor below made of white linoleum. He was hooked to some sort of machine, from which he could hear a faint, repetitive beeping noise. His heartbeat, perhaps? A large white tube ran from his forearm into the metal contraption— it looked as if water was flowing through it. Whether the clear liquid was coming into or out of his body he refused to dwell on.

To his right, he could see a massive window, out of which the scenery was rolling emerald-hued hills and a tiny highway far below. This confirmed to him that he was in some sort of tall building. But that… that wasn't right. Lucian hadn't had green vegetation anywhere for a very long time. His chest ached, and it was only this pang that seemed to snap him out of a daze. What the hell was he doing strapped to a hospital bed? Only then did he remember, and his jaw went slack. _He'd been fucking blown up!_

Shit. Was there some kind of button to call for help? Nurse assistance? Alistair hadn't been to a medical facility in years. Was anything broken? Had he needed to have surgery or something? The cold metal against his wrists reminded him of the cuffs, and he frowned as he pulled a little bit against them. They seemed quite bolted down. Jesus, did they think he was a psycho or something? It didn't make sense for him to be strapped down like some kind of wild animal... dread suddenly filled him as a thought occurred. Oh, no. No, no, no...

"Mr. Black. I'm glad to see you're awake!" The arrival of a young doctor who pushed through the double doors on his left caused him to jerk. He felt disoriented and sick to his stomach as he saw the man approach. Before the medical officer could get out another word, he leaped in, panicked.

"Hello, doctor, sir. Please don't arrest me... I'm not on the run from any policemen, I'm not suicidal, I don't own a meth lab or make homemade bombs... shit, I couldn't even afford the string to make a wick or whatever you make bombs out of. You've got to believe me— I'm just your average college student in crippling debt! I just... I was just going to be—" This was getting worse and worse by the second. Alistair, the usually calm and collected student with nothing but straight A's and excellent advice to give with an admirable pokémon team flanking him at both sides, was descending into a state of hysteria. He'd just realized yet another thing that made his heart further drop into his stomach. His voice quavered as he spoke. "My... my pokémon. Where are they?"

The doctor was silent for a moment before placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He flinched away from the touch, flashing the man such a dark glance that he took a step back and frowned.

"You've had quite the last three days, Mr. Black. You've been in a coma, and nobody was sure that you'd come to. We'll disclose to you everything you need to know soon. But right now, you need to rest and regain your strength. Can you do that for me?"

Alistair's eyes narrowed.

"Why should I? I didn't ask to end up in here," he said angrily, clenching his fists and fighting his restraints. "And why do I need to wear these? What, do you think I'm going to— to stab you? _Bite _you, for god's sake? I want to see my fucking team! Six of the finest fighting pokémon you'd ever meet, god damn it. They're all I have. Show me them, now!"

Now the doctor no longer seemed interested in playing the good cop. His mouth set in a thin line, he turned on his heels.

"I am not required to give you any information until you have given the proper authorities yours. I will come visit you later and see if you're ready to talk then."

"What!? Hey! I require proper representation! You can't... you can't twist the law like that!" Alistair nearly shrieked as horror set in.

He didn't know anything about city laws. For all he knew, what was happening was perfectly legal.

The door shut behind the doctor, and despair followed close behind. What had happened to Onyx and the others? Oh, god... their pokéballs had all been right there on the desk. His head swam trying to remember what had happened that night. All that he could recall clearly was having just gotten into his bed when he smelled something like burning carpet in his office... and then nothing but pain. His lycanroc had been waiting to jump up onto the bed after him, ever faithful at his side. Had it gotten out? There had been a fire. Glass. A splitting migraine begged him to close his eyes, and his thoughts became less and less coherent. Sleep was coming too quickly.

A black landscape comforted Alistair as he slipped away under the effects of anesthesia.

* * *

The tiny shinx who scampered along the sidewalk was all legs. They were everywhere, and it continually tripped over its own big paws in its haste. It looked over its shoulder for what was probably the twentieth time in the last minute, and let out a happy chirrup as its trainer did his best to catch up.

His trainer usually put a bit more effort into his appearance, but today was an exception. Wearing a light running outfit, the pale teenager looked far more different than usual. His wavy brown hair was pushed back against his head, framing eyes nearly the same color of the grassy plains all around the city, and his freckled face was beaded with sweat from hard exercise. He pushed his black wire glasses up with a finger and panted heavily.

"We've been running for at _least_ a few miles, Radar... give me... a chance to... catch my breath, please!" he gasped, holding his sides. The shinx— Radar— purred and trotted up to him obligingly, rubbing up against his heels. After a few moments of deep breathing, the young man knelt down to scratch his pokémon behind its round ears. It was delighted by this attention and closed its eyes. The trainer smiled for a moment, but it quickly faded. He sighed and looked up; the hospital loomed up ahead.

"Come on. We didn't come to Baketsu to roll around in the buttercups... as much as I'd like that to be the case."

Side by side, the two walked through the massive double doors and disappeared within.

* * *

A clock on the wall ticked quietly, breaking the silence which thickened the tiny chamber. Unlike the hospital room he had been placed in, there was no welcoming aura here. Only suspicion, a desk, three chairs, and a lamp greeted Alistair. If the intent of this place had been to make him feel uncomfortable, it had succeeded in its duty. But the student was not afraid, no. He had nothing to do with the explosion. The only thing he possibly saw himself getting in trouble with the law for was cursing at a doctor, and either way, it was a minor offense he was fairly certain carried no harm but a lack of respect. He was no longer cuffed to furniture, but the tube which remained attached to his forearm reminded him that only the press of a button could easily make him fall asleep again.

Alistair did not want to fall asleep again.

The two men who sat on either side of the nearly bare desk across from him held nothing but clipboards in their hands, but he had a sneaking suspicion at least one was hiding a gun somewhere. After years of fighting, Alistair knew that his hunches having to do with violence were almost always right. He made a mental note not to try breaking any necks and continued to stare down his opposers, one of which who seemed quite nervous for being someone dedicated to getting information out of him.

"Now, Mr. Black, I'd like you to... ahem... remember that we are _not_ your enemies. We're here to learn the truth, and make certain the law brings justice to the person or people who dropped a bomb capable of obliterating an entire apartment complex and then half a block. I can't imagine the pain you went through of losing everything you owned. Do you understand? Again, we are here to help you. As long as you speak the truth, no harm will come to you and you can be sent on your way." The man spoke pleasantly, but Alistair could detect the hard edge to his voice. There was no friendliness, either. He knew the tactics equipped by law enforcement officials like the back of his hand. Thankfully, they did not appear to know that. He kept his voice even and polite as he spoke.

"Yes, I do, sir. Thank you."

"I'm glad to hear that. Now, let us review what occurred on that day. The terrorist attack killed over two hundred people and pokémon, and only a select few were found alive on site. You were one of the very few discovered still breathing in the wreckage. Your pokémon— a midday lycanroc— was found lying over your body protectively and seemed unharmed. It appeared to have used Protect to keep you safe. Animal control was called and requested to move the creature after it showed aggressive behavior towards the EMT's on the scene, but after fearing you would lose too much blood while waiting for them, policemen instead chose to capture and subdue it. It has since been detained at a Pokémon Center, where its fate remains undetermined. Medical officials reported your only injuries to be head trauma, a splinter stuck in the side of your neck, and first degree burns across all four of your limbs... a shocking discovery to them after such a devastating explosion. You remained unconscious, however, and were tubed food and liquids for a total of three days at the Baketsu Family Hospital before waking up just last evening. Unfortunately, you were rude to a medical professional who had come in to explain to you what had happened, and made violent threats of bodily harm towards him. These caused him to leave for his own safety." Papers shuffled, and the detective nearer to him looked up with a solemn expression. "Is this final statement true?"

"Yes, sir." Alistair remained almost completely motionless. Not even his fingers tapped against his thigh. His light blue eyes were like searchlights in the dim room, settling first on the detective speaking to him and then the man quietly observing from the other side of the desk whom was scribbling thoughtfully on a paper attached to his clipboard. Without acknowledging his admittance of cold accusations towards the doctor, the interrogator pressed on.

"Four pokéballs were removed from the ruins of what we believed to be your apartment. Apart from being a bit singed, they appeared completely intact. Inside of these pokéballs we discovered what you have earlier confirmed to be members of a competitive fighting team." He paused for a moment. "Yet, you claimed you owned six pokémon. Accompanied by your lycanroc, this meant we had discovered five. The sixth— a male greninja— was found dead inside of its pokéball later that night. It... did not survive. It is believed to have burned to death within its ball."

Agony twisted deep within the stomach of Alistair, and he doubled over as he let out a choked cry. The news hit him like a hammer blow to his insides. His greninja... his dear friend... Mystique was dead? It seemed impossible. Not Mystique... not his bravest and most seasoned fighter. That was no way for such a mighty, noble creature to go. It had no way to fight against a fire, especially not while trapped in a pokéball! Guilt hit him like a ton of bricks, and then anger. Who would do such a thing? Who would dare? Emotion welled up in his chest, and he trembled with an emotion that was not sadness. He was innocent. He was being accused of terrorism and mass murder, and the real perpetrator somewhere out there walked away unharmed and none the worse for wear.

A person or group of people had slaughtered one of his closest friends and still remained free.

"I can see this is hard for you to hear, Mr. Black. And... all it takes is something like this to confirm our suspicions. You've had nothing to do with the attack, clearly. You've lost a beloved companion, and very nearly others as well. We will alert the hospital that you are free to go immediately, and return your pokémon and remaining belongings to you. But... take a moment." The two men departed respectfully from the room and shut it behind them. Not long after, Alistair's misery became silent as he straightened up and rolled back his shoulders. His face was filled with rage.

It was time that he did a little bit of investigating of his own.

* * *

**A/N: **_Hooray, the first chapter is out! No more sketchy prologues; no, sir. We now get a proper snapshot of what is occurring, and also get a brief look at one of our first submitted characters. You'll get to know more about him and his partner Radar soon enough! Eventually, I will have set up a specific posting schedule for this novel and will let you all know. Most likely, it will be some time every Sunday or Monday. SYOC's are still open, though slots are closing up amazingly fast and I will probably have picked my final characters by tomorrow night. I can't thank you all enough for the support I've gotten and all the unique characters I've received! It's absolutely appreciated, and I can tell this will be quite the intriguing crew. See you all next chapter!_


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